Like Knives
by AlcesRedivivus
Summary: "Stupid. Ugly. Fat. Disgusting. Worthless." "Shut up." "You're perfect, Kendall." "I'm not." "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Kames. Struggles with depression. No longer rated M for I found it unnecessary.
1. Your Body Will Burn Tonight

**Okay so I got home and did exactly what he did except the dinner part, but I was thinking about how much I want to make a big dinner and Jesus I typed that up so fast. I've been waiting for some inspiration or something to hit me, because I've been dying to start my first Kames fic. It is here and I am so happy. It's short because it's the beginning, but I promise future chapters will be more lengthy. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters and that makes me sad.

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><p>Walking home was painful. I felt a sharp pain in my side and I was kind of nauseous, which was weird because I had two granola bars and a Capri Sun this morning. It's only 11:30, I'd say. I don't have my phone. Or anything, for that matter. I wouldn't know. As I enter my neighborhood the pain gets worse and now my chest is aching, too. I'm staring at my legs as they take each step. Clad in blue jeans and I think I should wear these jeans more often because my legs look really good. That makes me sound a little more feminine than I already am. Tomorrow is my last day, I think. No more school ever because according to them, my grades aren't good enough for college. I don't know about my grades. I don't worry about them. I get by, I think.<p>

I get home and I'm expecting the worst. I'm not quite sure because this is my house, after all. Mine and all mine. My parents kicked me out and got me an apartment.. last year? I think. My parents.. are divorced. One of them is dead. So just mom bought the house. Right. Just mom. Dad's gone. Katie's gone. Not dead, just gone. Who else..

There's my house.

It's hot outside.

I decide turning on my laptop takes too much time so I move the mouse on the desktop and wait. It wakes up. The screen is bright. There's too much sun coming in through the screened door. I move to lie down on the couch and I close my eyes and oh. That feels better. My headache subsides and then I'm at the computer chair again. I took off my pants, don't know when. I'm sitting in a white shirt and boxers and checking things and ignoring messages and I decide right then as I close my eyes for a second time, resting my head in my hands, that I am going to make a big dinner.

I pull things out one by one and I don't know what I'm doing, but I go with it and I let my hands do the wandering and the switching and stirring and cutting and it seems that they have a mind of their own while my mind watches. The dinner is large enough for an entire family. I clear off the kitchen table and I wonder why my paren- mom. I wonder why my mom bought me so much stuff when she kicked me out but I sit down anyways. I sit down and I stare at the dinner and other empty chairs. Suddenly someone is there and I don't remember.. I don't remember letting anyone in.

They're looking at me. I tell them to stop that so I can eat my dinner and they look at me again before getting up and wandering around my house like it is their own.

Suddenly I don't feel so hungry anymore. This is my house. Not theirs. Mine. I turn to tell them to leave and never come back but I can't move. Someone is grabbing me and I am being strapped to something that I think is a stretcher. When did that get here? There are too many people in my house. There are people outside of my little door and people in the parking lot of the complex and there are lights and I start to get very sleepy. I want to sleep. There is a man in a uniform telling me to calm down and that everything is going to be okay and that I didn't do too much damage.

Damage?

My eyes shut and the last thing I hear is a shrill scream of _"Kendall!"_ before sleep takes me in it's welcoming arms.

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><p><strong>AN: Review? Please. That'd be nice. **


	2. Though Your Heart May Still Remain

"Mrs. Knight! _Mrs. Knight!_ He's waking up!"

Kendall groaned. His throat was raw; felt like sandpaper. He heard crying, screaming, beeping and frantic chatter before a cold hand found it's way behind his neck. It raised his head and he felt his bed incline, more cold hands grabbing different places on his arm and feeling pulses and he just wanted them to stop. He couldn't find the strength to move and his eyes felt heavy. He didn't want to open them and see everything.

The crying had subsided a little but he could still hear it and he knew who it was. He knew that pathetic, heartbreaking sob anywhere.

"Mrs. Knight, Mrs. Henderson. We're sorry but you need to leave so we can do some tests and talk to him privately." Another sob and some _shhh_ing and the sobs faded off.

"Kendall, can you hear me?"

He coughed.

"He needs water. Do you need water, son?"

A straw pressed to his chapped lips and he sucked, getting as much water as he could before coughing again.

"Kendall, can you say "hi" for me?"

His brow crinkled. "Hi,'" he croaked.

"Good. Say 'bye',"

He coughed again. "B-bye."

"Are you able to open your eyes?"

He shook his head.

"Give it some time. You just came back to consciousness, it'll take awhile."

Kendall nodded. He could wiggle his fingers, he could cough, he could nod and shake his head. He could talk. Sort of. That was good.

"Do you know what happened, Kendall? Why you're here?"

Kendall paused to think and shook his head. Last thing he remembered, a stranger put him on a stretcher and interrupted his dinner. Maybe he was arrested. Maybe he got tazed and it put him into shock or something.

The person talking to him sighed and the room was quiet. He heard mumbling and then a door open and close.

He was scared. He didn't know where he was, and he had no idea why he was here and he couldn't see anyone and he was just so tired. He wanted to go back to his dinner. He wanted to go tell his mom he was okay and that he passed school, but she was sobbing who-knows-where now and he didn't even know why.

"Hey." A warm, soft hand gripped his. That was a familiar voice.

"It's Logan." Kendall squeezed his hand to tell him he heard him. Logan. Logan Henderson. Logan hadn't spoken to him since the beginning of their Junior year before things went downhill.

"I don't know if you can remember who I am or not," Of course Kendall remembered him. How could he not?

"But uh. I really miss you." There was a crack in his voice and then he coughed.

"And I'm. I'm glad you're awake. Sort of." He chuckled.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm still here and that I didn't leave. Because I know you have that thing with abandonment and trust and people leaving and I just- I just wanted to remind you. In case you've been lying here since you woke up, scared shitless because you started to think all of your friends left you. You'd do that."

Kendall crinkled his brow. How did he know that?

The blonde cleared his throat and croaked, "ho-how'd you know that?"

He felt Logan jump and then grip his hand tightly. "You're my best friend, dude."

Kendall shook his head.

"You haven't spoke- you haven't spoken to me since the 11th grade."

"Kendall. We're in the 11th grade right now."

He was starting to wake up more, now. He squinted his eyes open and thankfully the lights were not on, because he could have very possibly blinded himself right there. He looked at Logan, right into his eyes and stared at him questioningly.

"What are you talking about?"

It kind of hit Logan then. He released Kendall's hand and stood up, walking to the monitor beside Kendall's bed and pressed the little red button.

"Can you please bring Doctor Ross in here? Thank you."

"Logan. Answer me."

He looked at him and calmly walked to the door, whispering to a man who looked much too young to be a doctor. They both nodded and Logan walked off, leaving Kendall with the stranger who he guessed to be Doctor Ross, the one who asked him questions not too long ago.

He raised an eyebrow. "Does anyone mind telling me what's going on?"

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><p><strong>AN: Chapters need to be short right now or else the story will go too fast. Bear with me. Review, please and thank you. **


	3. The Sheets Are Stained

_He woke up knowing that today, he was going to do it. When he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, it talked to him and it said "Kendall, you gotta go." Kendall agreed._

_So he got out of bed, got dressed, took a look at himself in the mirror and laughed. He watched his feet take the steps one by one to his bedroom door, and when he opened it, no one even acknowledged him._

_Carlos was still sleeping. It was only 10 a.m. Logan was eating in the kitchen and reading the paper. James was sitting on the orange couch, watching America's Next Top Model. Mrs. Knight was cooking breakfast and Katie was working on a project._

_He also decided then that he was going to do something he'd been waiting to do since March. It was September._

_"Oh, you're awake. Can you take out the trash, Kendall? Please and thank you." Kendall nodded at his mom. The one person who has never let him down. Not once. He gently wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight._

_"Love you, ma'."_

_She eyed him questioningly and released the grip on the frying pan to reach up and feel his forehead. "You okay, sweetie?" Kendall nodded and smiled._

_He passed my Logan and ruffled his hair. "Tell Carlos I said morning."_

_Logan stared at him like he had three heads. He kissed Katie on the cheek and told her she spelled "definitely" wrong._

_Then he looked at James. Who was still caught up in his TV show while everyone else was still staring at him, waiting for him to explode like he was some type of time bomb._

_His feet carried him to the couch. Mind of their own, like always. Kendall never decided anything with his own mind. His body did it. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself._

_He straddled James' and waited for the brunette to acknowledge his presence. Once he did, Kendall dove straight for his lips._

_He cupped his face with his hands, and he kissed him. He used every ounce of energy he had and poured all of it into that one kiss._

_James' lips were soft and slightly chapped, but he liked that. He loved it. He tasted like James. Nothing else. He'd been waiting for months to finally find out what it was that James tasted like and now that he knew he could die happy. He really could._

_When he pulled away, he buried his face in James' neck and wrapped his hands around his waist; savoring the moment for all that it was worth. This would be the last time he saw his best friend._

_James stared down at Kendall with pure shock written across his face. He hugged him back regardless, not one to push Kendall away when he was, for once, showing some type of affection towards another human being. Considering he'd been avoiding everyone for the past six months, this was just slightly, extremely surprising._

_Kendall inhaled once and let go, getting up and walking towards the door to 2J. He cleared his throat, still walking, and let his vocal cords take over._

_"See you guys later." Then he laughed. "Man, fuck you."_

_Then he left. He didn't even turn around. He just left. He walked down all of the flights of stairs instead of using the elevator. He walked out of the Palm Woods, down a couple of blocks, and stopped to look around. He spotted a young man, skinny and gawky, getting into his car._

_He shouted to the man, jogging up to him and promptly took the keys out of his hands. He pushed the man out of his way, got into his car, and drove off._

_Kendall didn't know. He had no idea what he was doing. But it felt good. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he was high off the endorphins and_fucking hell why didn't I do this before_._

_"Kendall, what the fuck?" The phone was speaking to him. It was speaking to him! Kendall laughed loudly. The phone sounded just like James._

_"I dunno, man. I don't fucking know." He kept laughing. He was laughing like it was all a big joke and he just pulled the ultimate prank on his friends._

_"Where are you?" Silly phone._

_"Dunno, man. Don't fucking know." He passed by a sign that said 'Welcome to San Diego'._

_"I'm in San Diego, phone. Nosey phone." He shook his head. Dumb ass phone._

_"Phone? Kendall, this is James. Why the hell are you in San Diego?"_

_"James? Maaaan, this is so sweet! We need to do this some time. I'll take you with me next time, okay, man?"_

_"Fuck, Kendall! God fucking dammit." Kendall heard shuffling and talking and then the phone- James spoke again._

_"I'm coming to get you, Kendall. Pull the car over and do. Not. Leave. Are you listening to me? Do not leave. Pull over right now."_

_Kendall snorted. "Yeah, right. No way dude. But I gotta go. 's time for me to go, so I'll see you some other time, kay?" Kendall hung up and rolled down his window. He chucked his phone out._

_"No more bitches. Bye bitches."_

_It was dark now. The clock in the car said it was 11 p.m. and he didn't even remember driving for that long._

_This was it._

_Kendal gripped his steering wheel tightly, closed his eyes, titled his head back, and stepped on the gas. Hard. He was laughing hysterically and even when the car collided with who-knows-what, he kept on laughing._

_He didn't open his eyes. He preferred to imagine everything in his head. He imagined himself running fastfastfastfast and jumping. He heard sirens in the background and decided that those could be the police sirens. They were chasing him because he stole something and man, he felt cool then. Just like in Grand Theft Auto. Police chasing him because he stole a car. He used to love that game. He and James used to play it when they were younger, everyday after school._

_It must have been an hour before he felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher- this felt familiar. This felt way too familiar._

There was a shrill scream of "Kendall!" before the darkness welcomed him with open arms.


	4. Hold Out Your Hands and Lean Upon Me

"What happened? Are you going to tell me? If you aren't going to tell me, please, put me the fuck back to sleep or something. Everything hurts." Kendall's voice cracked at the end. Everything hurt. It felt like the wounds on his legs had re-opened, his left shoulder was throbbing. It hurt to breathe.

"What's your last memory, Kendall?"

The blonde rolled his eyes. "I already told Logan that."

"Would you mind telling me?"

Fucking doctors.

"I was eating dinner at my apartment. School just let out for good, since I was a senior. Then I was getting put on a stretcher." He sighed.

"Is there anyone you'd like to see right now, Kendall? Before I explain to you what happened?"

Kendall cocked his eyebrow. _Why the fuck would I need to see someone?_

"Um, nah. I'm good. Can you just tell me?" Frustration.

"On September 20th, 2010, you drove off in someone else's car and crashed. Three people were injured, including you, and no one died. You've been in a coma for the last 4 months. Today's date is January 11th, 2011."

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><p>Kendall refused to speak to anyone for the next couple of days. Except for his mom, of course. He rejected all visitations from anyone else. He was getting out of here today. He was returning back to the Palm Woods, where his mom told him they lived. He kind of remembered that. Just a little bit.<p>

He remembered his mom, Katie, Logan, Carlos, and he remembered why he crashed that car. He remembered the band. Which meant he remembered James. He wasn't looking forward to seeing him, though. Not at all.

It took some time to remember everything. His mom had to remind him, day after day. It came back, though. All of it did.

But the thoughts were still there. He still wanted to die. He was angry, really, that he didn't. Because he went through all of that fucking trouble and he was still alive.

"Ready, Kendall?" His mom popped her head in the door and smiled. Kendall nodded. He grabbed his duffle bag and walked out the door, shutting it behind him. He was leaving. This was good and bad.

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><p>"James, chill out." Logan rolled his eyes. His friend had been running around the apartment for the past two hours trying to make himself and the area look decent.<p>

"I need a haircut, Logan. I look like shit."

"You look fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"Okay, you look a little rough. But we all do. So just chill."

James shook his head and groaned. "Is he even going to speak to me?"

Logan shrugged.

Carlos barged through the door jumping up and down. "THEY'RE COMING THEY'RE COMING THEY'RE COMING THEY'RE COMING." He grabbed Logan's shoulders.

"Logan. They're here. They're in the elevator right. Now."

"Carlos. Let go."

He released Logan's shoulders and paced back and forth. "Kendall looked so different, guys. It was weird." James stared at the shorter of the three sympathetically. Carlos hated that. He hated when people looked different. It was hard to deal with.

The doorknob jingled and then it was open, wide open, and Kendall was standing there with three stuffed animals and a duffle bag in his hands looking scared as shit.

James, Logan, and Carlos all stared at him. He flicked his gaze to his room. He remembered that. He remembered his room. That he shared with James.

Without looking back at his friends, he made a B-line to his door and he was gone.

"Just give him some time, guys," Mrs. Knight appeared by James's side. "He'll come out later." The boys nodded.

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><p>The first thing he wanted to do when he walked through that door was fling himself into James' arms. That was all he could think about and as he curled himself into a ball on his bed, he imagined it over and over and over. It hurt to think about. But he wanted it more than anything at that very moment.<p>

And Carlos. Carlos looked so heartbroken and so happy to see him. Logan looked relieved. Relieved that he was okay, he guessed.

But James was a mess. He looked lost, tired, and lonely. His hair was shaggy and he had large bags beneath his eyes. Kendall wanted to hug him and tell him it was okay. He was okay. Everything was going to be fine and to please stop looking so hurt.

**_But it's not going to be fine, Kendall._**

_I know it's not. But I can dream._

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><p>"Kendall?" The blonde froze.<p>

He heard shuffling and then the light in the room switched off, and he guessed that James was in bed now. He hadn't realized that it was night time.

He wasn't even close to tired. His mind wouldn't shut down. It was constantly asking and wondering and thinking and assuming. And he was so.. alone. He was so alone. It was so scary. But he was used to it. This was a normal feeling. He liked the depression. He liked the hurt. Happiness was.. Terrifying. He couldn't go there again. Not now.

But they wanted him to. They wanted him to be happy. They cared, and they worried, and Kendall was so selfish. He didn't care about anyone but himself and how long it was going to be until he could leave this god forsaken world because his head hurt, and now he was crying again, and he could feel his skin crawling and he couldn't breathe.

He shook his head furiously.

Without making a single noise, he got out of bed, walked over to his companion's and crawled in. He knew James was awake.

"Kendall?" This time Kendall nodded, choking on another sob. He felt strong arms wrap around him and the blonde buried his face in James' shirt, crying for all it was worth. James intertwined his legs with Kendall's and held onto him for dear life. Whispering, _shh_ing, soothing him until his sobs were silent cries.

"I don't know why you did what you did, Kendall. But I promise you that I am never letting you do it again. I won't push you to tell me, but I'll still always be here. I'm never letting you go. Not again." James could feel his eyes starting to water.

Kendall felt for James' face in the dark. He rested his hand on the brunet's cheek and lifted his head.

"Am I still in a coma? Because in there, we were like this, James. We were like this all of the time."

"No. You're not. You're here, with me. The real me." James croaked. His throat was tightening up and he was trying his best not to cry. Kendall rubbed his thumb under one hazel eye, wiping away a stray tear. "It's okay to cry. It's better when you're not so alone."

That got him. James let out a sob and pulled Kendall closer to him, enveloping him into his chest. They moved their legs until you couldn't tell whose legs were whose.

"I thought I lost you." Kendall nodded. He understood.

"You're my best friend. I can't lose you, Kendall. I can't."

Kendall shook his head. "You won't."

James cried harder, burying his face in the blonde's hair, one hand around his waist and the other cradling his cheek. He placed his lips on Kendall's forehead and minutes later they were both asleep, safe within the other and that was all that mattered. Tomorrow didn't matter. Yesterday didn't matter. Just right now. Them and no one else.

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><p><strong>AN: This was really hard to write. I don't know why, but I changed everything like 50 times. Review? Please? c: thank you to those that have. It means a lot.**


	5. Is It Love That You Crown?

It's been two months. I'm back in school, in Minnesota. I tried. I really did. I tried so hard to keep up with the band and get back to the regular harmonies and dances and practicing we did every week. But the little, but _so-very-large_ voice in my head won't leave. And as much as I want it to, I don't. Not at all.

Because what's it like without that voice? What's it like without having someone in your head, bringing you down and reminding you _whywhywhy_ you hate you? Bringing back memories you pushed yourself to forget. Reminding you that it won't change and you won't change and getting better, being healthy- eh. Who cares? It's not that great. Not that, you know, being unhealthy is great either, but it beats happy. It beats learning the rules and regulations of being happy, and then having it snatched away from you _justlikethat_ again. It's a big fucking joke and I refuse, _refuse,_ to participate in it.

Therapy. Psychiatrist. Celexa. Severe clinical depression. Post traumatic stress disorder.

After I taught my mind to get around the effects of Celexa, I stopped taking it. Mom got mad but I listened when the Psych guy told me that stopping the medication cold turkey wouldn't give me major side effects. At least not with Celexa. Some others it would.

Medication. Fuck that. I don't need a damn pill controlling my happiness when I can do it on my own just fine. I don't want to be happy, actually. So I won't take the fucking medication. I don't give two shits- really, I do not, what my mom or anyone else has to say on that matter.

Because happy is back in that coma. Happy is back where I had everything I wanted, not here in Minnesota where my best friends tagged along because they care about me or some dumb shit like that. I don't even care about myself. _Why would anyone care about me if I don't care about myself?_

I just want back in. I want to be in that perfect world where I had my own apartment, where school was out, where I didn't have to deal with mom. Where I had James. Where James and I, every night, were attached to each other in every possible way. It was perfect. Perfect.

And my head- _shut the fuck up._ I want to cry. I want to scream. I do just that. I am going to do just that because it is already so obvious that I've gone crazy. It is already so, so clear that I am an unhealthy fuck and that they should admit me to the psych ward already, because I will continue to do these things until I am dead or back in that coma state of mind.

Because I don't want this.

I am tired of living. I am tired of continuously telling myself "I'm tired." It's annoying. I'm annoying. I whine, I complain, I mope, I cry, I rot.

My head is filled to the brim with negativity but my body, every inch, is hallow. It literally feels like there is nothing there.

Thinking about this makes me want to rip myself open and into a million pieces.

The only thing that's keeping me from doing just that is James sitting next to me right now. He's been here since- I don't know. I had an episode and now I'm lying on the floor, on some rough carpeted floor. The room is empty but I see broken bits and pieces. I am staring at nothing, on my side, facing nothing. James is behind me. Sitting. Watching. Probably wondering why the fuck I'm not dead yet, too.

You can't trust anyone. Not even your- not even James. I'm not sure- I'm not sure at all why I do not trust James but I just don't. I kind of feel bad but then again not really, because maybe if I continue to be a complete and utter asshole towards him he'll leave and then I can finish myself off without feeling so guilty.

Fuck you, James.

Fuck you for being so beautiful. Fuck you. Fuck you for your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your skin, your stupid fucking self and fuck you for telling me that you still care about me when I tell you I hate you. Fuck you for making me fall in love with you and fuck you for leaving. Fuck you for changing.

"I didn't change, Kendall."

Fuck you for not noticing. Fuck you for continuously denying it.

"I didn't change, Kendall."

God shut the fuck up. Shut the god damn shit up you asshole. You make my head hurt. You make my arms hurt and my legs and my hands and my god damn heart. Right there where the bloody appendix pumps and beats and _aches_ like a god damn son of a bitch.

Then why'd you leave me, James?

"I didn't leave you, Kendall. I've been here."

That's a lie. You left. Where's the James that made me so happy? Where's the James that kept me safe? Where's the James that told me, every time I was down, that I was smart and my mom was wrong? Where's the boy who I held and sang to, danced with, laughed with, played with?

"That was a figment of your imagination, Kendall."

No it wasn't. Shut up.

"You know it was. We do this every night, Kendall. That was not James. I am James. Look at me, Kendall. I am James."

No. Go away.

"I'm not leaving, Kendall."

But you will.

"No I won't."

"I hate you so much."

"I know, Kendall. I know."

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><p><strong>AN: I know that this story is probably extremely confusing. I apologize. **

**I'm visiting my sister right now, so updates will be slow. I might be here for the next month if I'm allowed. It's 3:17 a.m.**

**Kendall's thoughts are my thoughts. I know these things because I have personally experienced them. Celexa is an anti-depressant. **

**But this story is not just for me to vent and shit like that, I promise. It is going somewhere. You'll see. Review please and thank you?**


	6. Slow, So Slow

There were days when Kendall was Kendall again. He was happy, funny, out-going, and loving. He didn't hate James, and he didn't ignore his best friends. Days where he was positive about everything; himself, his future, getting better. He actually wanted to. He _wanted_ to be healthy. He _wanted _to be happy. He absolutely adored that feeling. There was nothing like it in the world.

But when he actually started to think about it, he was lost. Because he had no idea what it was like to be happy. And everyone kept telling him, 'Yeah you do, Kendall. Remember when we did our first concert?' or 'Yeah you do, Kendall. Remember when your mom got you those tickets for a Wild's game for your fifteenth birthday?'

And yes, of course Kendall remembered those times. He remembers being happy. But he doesn't remember what it felt like. He just knows he felt.. _good_. Just good. But he knows, _he knows_ that that's not what happy is. Because he feels good a lot. He has his good moments, like right now. He and Carlos are playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo 64, just like when they were little. Carlos is screaming because he just got hit with three red shells at one time and Kendall is laughing as he speeds into first place, always the winner. He crosses the finish line and does a victory dance and Carlos is pouting and then smiling too, because it's so good to see Kendall happy again.

But Carlos doesn't get it. No one does, really. Kendall isn't 'happy again.' He's good. Good for the time being.

Suddenly Kendall feels too exposed like this. He stops his happy dancing but keeps the smile on his face, because he hates when people look at him, and immediately dropping your smile? That calls attention.

"Dude, I have to piss like a race horse, I'll be right back." Carlos laughs at Kendall's reference to pee and horses.

Kendall walks down a hallway and enters the first door on the left. Carlos' bathroom smells like lavender. It always smells like lavender, in fact, Kendall can't remember a time where it hasn't. He pees and then turns to wash his hands, but stops and looks at his reflection. He notices the little things that everyone else seems to think he doesn't. The sadness in his eyes. The slight downward turn in his smile. There are dark bags under each eye and he sighs, washing his hands and decides that he's actually feeling really exposed right now; more than before. So he sits on the bathroom floor and closes his eyes.

_What's wrong with you? Go have fun with your best friend._

I can't do that right now.

_There you go again. You have to fuck everything up._

Stop talking and go away. I don't need this right now.

_You never 'need this right now', you selfish shit. _

I never need you.

_Yes you do. You love having me here._

I love having a voice inside my head, totally.

_You do. You like it when you're comfortable being depressed. Which is quite often._

Yeah, but I don't need you right now.

_Doesn't mean I'm leaving._

Why not?

_Because you're not making me. I can't just leave. _

I don't know how to make you leave.

"Kendall?" Shit.

_You're crying, you know. _

The blond took a look at his position. He didn't remember doing this. His knees were curled into his chest and his arms were protectively wrapped around his legs. His head was down and he was crying so hard his body was shuttering.

The door opened and Carlos muttered a 'fuck' before he was gone, probably to get someone.

Kendall hardly noticed. The voice in his head was starting to get violent, and he was starting to have trouble breathing. He was shaking uncontrollably and digging his fingernails into his legs, running them up and down repeatedly as if he could tear skin through his jeans.

"You gotta go. You gotta go. You gotta go you gotta go you gotta g-" Kendall choked on a sob. "You gotta go, Kendall," He told himself. He uncurled from his position and crawled out of the bathroom. He was halfway down the hallway and he ran into a pair of legs.

Kendall looked up and there was James, hazel eyes staring at him knowingly.

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta go," Kendall mumbled.

"Okay. Where are we going?" James jingled his keys.

"I gotta go. I gotta leave. James you know what I'm talking about."

James nodded. "I do know. But this time I'm going with you."

"You're not dying. You don't have a reason."

"Do you?"

"I can't even list all of them," Kendall mumbled.

There was silence and then Kendall was bawling again.

"I gotta go." He shoved James' legs out of the way and continued to crawl, mostly because he didn't have the energy to stand up. Then there was Carlos. Standing at the end of his hallway with sad eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

"Why can't you guys just fucking let me go?" Kendall shouted, the tears streaming down his cheeks.

James was in front of him again and bad move, Kendall thought. He let out a heart wrenching sob and then he was up on his feet, dashing down the hallway for the back door.

The hallway was longer than he remembered and he was so close, almost at the door and then there was James on top of him, sitting on his pelvis and Kendall was on his back. He was screaming and still crying, hitting James until the brunet grabbed both of his arms and stared. He didn't move one muscle in his face.

"Stop looking at me," Kendall choked.

James continued to stare.

"Stop it!" Kendall shouted, his face growing red with anger.

Staring.

"James," he squeaked. "Please. Stop looking at me. I can't-" He stopped to think and instead of talking he locked his eyes with hazel ones, staring back. Except unlike James', Kendall's eyes were filled with hurt and confusion. James' eyes grew soft and he sighed.

"Why do you do this?" James asked, knowing he was going to get the same answer he always got.

Without breaking their gaze Kendall firmly stated, "Because."

Then he felt woozy. He was out of breath, out of tears, and his head was spinning. He leaned his head to the side and closed his eyes, mumbling "'m tired, James." And James got off of him, Kendall instinctively curling into the fetal position and minutes later he was asleep on the Garcia's carpeted floor.

So James lifted him, no problem at all, wrapped his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist before telling Carlos "thanks for calling me." And Carlos nodded, following James and the sleeping Kendall to his door and then they were gone, in James' car and driving home.

James lived alone. His parents moved to Florida when he left for L.A.

His home was.. it was the side of James no one but his friends knew. You walked in and immediately felt at ease. His house smelled like aromatherapy oils. Because, well, that's what they were. Downstairs there was the kitchen, the living room, the laundry room, a bathroom, and the door to the back porch. Upstairs was just one room, James' room. Equivalent to the size of an average living room. No door or anything. You walk straight up into a room and that's it, that's the upstairs. Kendall picked out the house when they got back from L.A.

He gently set Kendall on his bed. He removed the blond's shirt, replacing it with a sweatshirt of James' because that's what Kendall liked to sleep in- sweatshirts. He liked James' sweatshirts the best. He didn't removed his pants because Kendall didn't like that. James knew why. He chose not to say anything.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Kendall's forehead. He thanked Carlos mentally for calling him, knowing that if he hadn't and tried to fix things on his own, lots of bad things would have happened. Like possibly Carlos letting Kendall getting away. And then Kendall would be.. he would be dead.

"And you can't die, Kendall." His voice cracked and he tilted his head back, making the tears go back in his god damn eye sockets.

He brushed a stray blond hair from his friend's face and switched off the light before he went back downstairs. To make some tea for Kendall when we woke up. Because Kendall loved tea.

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><p><strong>AN: I've been lazing around all day so I decided to write. We're actually getting somewhere with this story now :D Not just random ramblings anymore~ **

**Review please and thank you?  
><strong>


	7. Words Intertwined With Melodies

**Okay seriously, thank you all so much for all of the favorites and reviews and shit. Whenever my iPod _dings_ and I get a new email notifying me that someone reviewed or favorited I do a happy dance inside my head.**

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><p>I opened my eyes and the smell of hazelnut coffee, smoke, and something musky enveloped my senses. That was the smell of James. Which was, by far, my favorite smell.<p>

I sat up and stretched my limbs, popping and cracking knuckles and joints.

I felt really good. I'm not sure why, at all, because the last thing I remember was having a mental breakdown at Carlos' house and then James was sitting on me.

I think it might be because I woke up in James' bed, with James' sweatshirt on me and I could hear the tea kettle whistling downstairs.

_If I could just live here forever.._

But I couldn't.

But I wanted to. I wanted to wake up in my best friend's bed every morning. I wanted to take in the smell that was James and know that no matter what, as long as I was here with him, that I was safe. I wanted to live contently with that fact.

But I couldn't.

But I really fucking wanted to. I wanted to work up the courage to kiss James again like I did that day before I drove off and crashed a car. I've been replaying that scene over and over in my head since I woke up and regained my memory. The way his arms wrapped around me when I embraced him, strong and warm and_ safe_. How his lips fit so perfectly against mine. How he tasted like _James._

But I couldn't.

We haven't discussed what I did that day at all, ever. Never brought it up. I feel like he thinks I was insane that day anyways. I mean, I stole someone's car. I crashed that someone's car. On purpose.

I don't blame him for thinking that.

To prevent myself from getting depressed for a shit reason all over again, I sighed and rolled off of his bed, stretching again and walking down the stairs.

This is why I love being around James. This is exactly why I love having James as my best friend.

Even though I put him through all of my emotional bullshit, he always acts like it never happened. He knows that that's what I want; I want to act like it never happened. Because most of the time I hardly remember the details. I just remember the beginning of the breakdown and the end where he comes and saves me. So I don't want to act like I just had an episode. I want to act like I'm..

Tired. I'm just really tired. Exhausted, even. Which I am, so that's not lying.

And James gives me what I want without even asking because he knows.

I still have his sweatshirt on and I hope he knows that he's never getting this back.

"You're awake? You didn't sleep very long." James appeared from the kitchen holding a mug. I smiled and shook my head.

"The kettle whistling woke me up," I shrugged.

"Shit I didn't even think about that," he grumbled. He walked back into the kitchen and left me standing in his living room, staring at a dust particle floating through the air.

He came back in with another mug and handed it to me.

"Here. Tea." I happy danced and sat down, him following suit.

"Did you have a good twenty minute dream? You're way too perky for someone who just woke up." He didn't say happy. He knows I hate when people say I'm happy.

I shrugged and sipped my tea. "I woke up in a good mood. 'm not sure why." Yes I am. It's because I woke up in your bed with your sweatshirt.

He switched on the television and we pursued in a Catdog marathon, which I was way too ecstatic about. I didn't even know that show still aired. We used to watch this together every morning before school and every afternoon after.

When the marathon ended it was about 7 in the evening. James' head was in my lap and he was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling and then at me, then back at the ceiling. I was leaning my head on the back of the couch and running a hand through his hair. His unbelievably soft hair. He'd gotten it cut not too long ago and I liked it better cut clean than shaggy, I decided.

"What do you want to do for dinner?" He asked. I was about to reply with _'Sonic sounds good,'_ until I remembered that my mom was probably expecting me home. I groaned.

"My mom doesn't know I'm here, she thinks I'm still at Carlos'." I felt strange saying that. Normally I wouldn't mention anything close or relating to one of my episodes, because that would lead to actually talking about it. James knew though.

"I called her when you were sleeping, told her we were hanging out tonight," he replied. I lifted my head up and looked down at him.

"Then I say we go get Sonic, because I really want some tater tots right now. And you can get a watermelon slushie," I smirked. James would do anything for a watermelon slushie.

Suddenly he was up and off of the couch, slipping his shoes on and grabbing his keys from the kitchen.

"Ready when you are," he beamed. I laughed and jogged upstairs, putting on my Vans and when I got back down James was already in his car.

The ride to Sonic involved the mixed CD Carlos made James for Christmas and both of our fabulous yet not-so-fabulous voices singing along.

"_Ohhhh gotta get outta here. And I'm begging you, I'm begg_- ASSHOLE! FUCKING TURN SIGNAL, USE IT!" James screamed, flipping off the guy driving out of the Sonic parking-lot-thing-area. Who fucking knows what to call it; Sonic's practically a parking lot.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. James had the worst road rage known to man.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, bitch. He has a turn signal for a reason," James snapped. I laughed regardless.

He pulled up to the speaker box and looked at me, "What are you getting?" I leaned forward to peak at the menu, even though I already knew what I wanted.

"Tots. Lots and lots of tots," I muttered and leaned back. James looked at me strangely before ordering a number one and a number two, with lots and lots of tots and a watermelon slushie.

"You're eating a number one _and _a number two?" I questioned. Damn.

"No, you're eating the number one," he stated matter of factly. I shrugged, whatever. Food is food.

He pulled up to the window and started digging in his pants pockets for his wallet. Then he checked the console in the middle, and underneath his ass, before he found it in the left pocket of his leather jacket. Which looked incredibly_ delicious_ on him, may I add. He'd had that jacket for as long as I remember but he'd finally grown into it, the material hugging his fit form.

We paid and drove back to his house, deciding we were going to spend the rest of the night watching a movie.

It ended up being me dragging his ass upstairs halfway through the movie when he fell asleep, him stumbling and cursing me to the deepest depths of hell because "_I was so comfy, Kendall. Why do you hate me?"_

And instead of sleeping when we both changed- me in one of his t-shirts with a Looney Tune on the front and a pair of boxers, him in a pair of gym shorts because he hated sleeping with clothes on but since I was there he had to at least wear pants,- we just sorta. Lied there. In complete silence.

It was aggravating, to say the least. I wanted to mention it, that kiss. Because I was feeling so unbelievably confident right now and the rest of my day had been so uplifting; spending it with my best friend. I hadn't felt like this in a long while.

But I changed my mind quickly, settling on slipping my hand into his as I flipped onto my stomach, head facing the opposite direction. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles, making him sigh and after a few more minutes he was asleep, breathing evened out, leaving me to think.

Which was never good. You've seen what happens when I start to think.

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><p><strong>AN: This was kind of a filler chapter. And it was really short. But I wanted to write something more upbeat and less depressing. Review please and thank you? **

**Also- I'm writing a Kames based two-shot, which I already posted the first part to. It's called _Reminisce._**

**It's also 4 am right now. It's impossible for me to write during the day.**


	8. I'll Have You Know I'm Scared To Death

**So, like it says in my Bio, I'm currently dealing with a lot of personal issues right now. I'm also grounded from the Internet for a month. but I'm managing to get on right now so I can update this story. **

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><p>"<em>Kendall, you can't just do things because you feel like it. You have to think about the consequences."<em>

"_Kendall, what were you thinking? Did you even stop to think about anyone else?"_

"_You're selfish, Kendall. I can't believe this."_

"_We're going to have a talk when I get home, Kendall."_

He nodded, staring at the wall. "Okay Mom."

She hung up and he followed, setting his phone down on the floor.

He didn't care. He didn't see what the big deal was. He told a girl at school that she looked like a slut today. It was pure spur-of-the-moment acting but he did it, and the damage was done. Partially because he'd had a terrible morning, and _desperately _needed to take his anger out on someone; and maybe kind-of because she was all over James. Maybe.

It was very un-Kendall like of him, to say the least. Kendall didn't lash out at people unless they harmed him, his family, or his best friends. But she was just too _close_, and too.. _gorgeous_. Kendall didn't like it. At all.

He felt guilty. A little bit. Just a smidge. Not enough to actually care.

He didn't think he did anything wrong.. did he? She had it coming, and, really, he was just telling her what the rest of the senior class said behind her back. Which was true- they all thought she was a slut. Kendall didn't make that up.

_Kendall. Wake up. You hurt her feelings. _

Shrug.

_You hurt her. You hurt her to make yourself feel better._

Shrug.

_Selfish._

Kendall froze.

"I'm not selfish," he said aloud. "I was just- I was just telling her to back off.

_That doesn't make it right._

"Shut the fuck up!"

And then he lost it.

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><p>Kendall watched himself sob in the bathroom mirror. Red blotches formed on his face and he scrunched his nose in disgust. <em>Hideous. I look hideous.<em>

His entire form racked with sobs; shaking and shivering and twitching. Unwanted snot built up and blocked his airway as he spluttered and coughed, the sudden thought that _'What if I die from choking on snot,_' running through his mind. That didn't sound too bad. Dying was what he wanted, wasn't it?

He spit it out and ran the water, watching it go down the drain and then glancing back up at the mirror.

_Disappointment. You're a disappointment. _

He was uncomfortable. The clothes hanging off of his body were itching at his skin and he wanted to scream. They needed to go. Everything had to go. Everything itched.

"Gotta go," he cried. **(1)**

He tore off the shirt covering his torso and threw it at the wall. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd hoped that he would have created a dent of some sort on said wall, but- let's be realistic. His pants came off next, flying down the stairs along with his socks and bracelets adorning his wrists. Kendall stood in his hallway clad in mismatched socks and gray boxer-briefs.

That was all he remembered.

Ten minutes later he was sitting on a cold bathroom floor, red scratches covering his calves and small droplets of blood running down to his ankle. He gripped his phone in one hand and a small pair of finger-nail clippers in the other; file flipped out.

He leaned his head back against the door and breathed in deeply, exhaling with a fresh set of tears. A slick, black iPod lay next to him, playing the playlist he'd created specifically for moments like these.

He didn't know why he tortured himself like that.

Self-harming is an art. All of the cliché stories you hear about razors and wrists and gushing blood; Kendall despised those. Because in reality- that wasn't the case. He'd never once spoken to anyone who hurt themselves directly on their wrists with deep, deep cuts. In reality- you'd be dead. Now he's not saying that people don't do that. In most cases, if they are, it's because they want to die.

And 99 percent of the time, if you self-harm, you don't do it to die.

You do it to feel.

Kendall liked to feel. Kendall liked to carve words into his legs. He liked to carve them into his legs because, well- easier access. And no one looked there first.

He liked to sharpen the file on nail-clippers so it was nice and ridged. So he could take his time and do as he pleased. He liked the burning sensation minutes after he finished. He liked the way the scratches that didn't bleed would raise up, red and puffy and irritated. He liked the feeling of new scars pressing against the rough fabric of his jeans.

And Kendall loved, absolutely loved the satisfactory of creating scars that would never leave his body.

Kendall's head tilted to the side, tears drying on his face only to be washed away by new ones soon to come.

_"Can I have you?" _**(2)**

And suddenly Kendall was on his feet, nail-clippers on the ground and iPod in his hand instead. His crying was equivalent to a young child's; harsh and loud. His face screwed up as he searched through his contacts and pressed send, _waitingandwaitingandwaiting_ for the person on the other end to pick up.

"Hello?"

"James," he choked out.

"Kendall? What's wrong? What happened?"

Kendall sobbed louder- harder. He doubled over and wrapped one arm around himself, leaning his head against the bathtub.

He had no idea why he tortured himself like this. Why he listened to music that just put him further into the negative state of mind. He liked to think it was because it helped him cry more, because sometimes Kendall couldn't cry as much as he wanted to. He loved the feeling of a good cry.

This song, though. This song did it for him.

"Kendall! What's wrong? I'm coming over, Kendall. I'm on my way. Don't hang up."

"_Please don't let me go." _

"_I am never letting you go," _James stated.

Silence.

"Kendall, I'm here. Open the door."

Kendall cried harder.

"I-," he croaked. "I can't move," he whispered. "Back door." And then Kendall hung up, dropping his phone on the floor and screaming for all it was worth.

It hurt. It hurt so much. The pain in his chest that just wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried. He put so much effort into trying to be happy but the pain. The pain wouldn't leave. He felt like he was being ripped open from the inside like so many times before, but this time he felt himself falling. He felt himself falling into the never ending abyss of self-hate and angst and he needed someone to help him climb out before it was too late.

"Kendall?"

The bathroom door opened and Kendall tensed.

He couldn't live like this much longer. He couldn't live with James helping him every time he broke down. He needed to- he needed to get better.

"But I don't want to," he whispered harshly to himself.

"Don't want to what? Come here, Kendall," James ordered.

Kendall didn't move.

"I don't want to!" He screamed and James flinched. He felt tears prick at his own eyes upon the sight of Kendall in his current state.

"Kendall," he spoke softly. He did a once over on Kendall's body, noticing the scratches on his legs and the very faint trail of blood leading towards his foot. James brought his hands to his face, pressing the palms to his eyes to prevent any tears from falling.

"I don't want to, James," Kendall mumbled, head lolling to the side to stare into hazel eyes. James brought his hands down and stared back as he approached the distraught boy on the cold tile floor.

"Don't want to what?"

"I don't want to get better, James. I'm scared."

James shook his head as the realization that Kendall really wasn't healthy hit him- he wasn't at all. He'd known he wasn't, but he had no idea what went through his head, and he had no idea that it was this bad. He had no idea.

"Listen to me," James said. He sat down next to Kendall Indian style, grabbing both of his arms and turning the blond to face him. He was going to handle this. Kendall stared at James helplessly, silently pleading for some sort of answer.

"You need to get better, Kendall. And I don't care how long it takes. I don't care if it's five or ten years from now when you are fully, one-hundred percent happy and healthy. I will be here. And as long as I'm here, you don't need to be scared of anything." James cupped Kendall's face with both hands.

"You don't need to be scared," he finished.

He pressed Kendall's lips to his in a fit of passion, doing what he'd wanted to do since Kendall walked through the door to 2J back in January. It was nothing like the last time Kendall had kissed him- rushed and rough and filled with lust. It was gentle, it was caring, and it was meant to show Kendall that James was not going anywhere.

Kendall pressed back, breathing in through his nose with ease. He'd waited too long for this.

James pulled back to breathe himself.

He looked into green eyes filled with fear, sadness, and that lost look Kendall had so often.

"Should I not have done that?" James whispered against the blonde's lips.

Kendall swallowed loudly and shook his head. "No- I mean. Yes. You should have done that. I wanted to do that."

James sighed and pulled his face back a few inches, running a hand through Kendall's hair. "How about we clean your leg and make sure nothing's infected first. Then find you some clothes. And then we can talk," he suggested.

"Talk about what?" Kendall questioned.

"We can start with why your pants are on the stairs," he chuckled. Kendall looked at the ground. "And then we can talk about what brought this on," he motioned to Kendall's legs. "And then," he paused, "we can talk about us."

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><p><strong>AN: **Review pleaseeee and thank you? I appreciate all of the favorites this story has gotten, I do! But reviews are nice as well. Even just a "great chapter" or something of the sort is fine but I won't make you. Or is you have some criticism I'm willingly to hear what you have to say as well.

When this story is over I'll make a playlist of the songs I listened to while writing it and post that. Anyone know where I got the story title from? It's a song. But by who?

**(1)- **He's said this in the past when "episodes" have occurred. It's something I developed along the way. Like I said, Kendall's thoughts are my thoughts. This chapter was based off of a situation that happened not too long ago. I change things up, though, of course.

**(2)**- This lyric is in the song the story title is based off of.


	9. Nothing Shines Quite As Bright

**Before I even start, I want to apologize for how god damn short this is. I wrote this a while ago and intended to make it longer before posting, but I'm having major writer's block and wanted to get this up because it might be a little longer until I actually unblock myself. **

**I also apologize for how long it's been since I've updated. I just got ungrounded like, a week ago and haven't been near the computer I have all my writing and stuff saved on so. Yeah. **

**ON-WARDS.**

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><p>I've been awake for the past two hours. I woke up in bed and just. I can't go back to sleep.<p>

James' bed.

He's next to me.

We're not dating.

Kind of.

We're taking things really slow. Because really, the last thing I need is a relationship. I need to do this on my own, remember?

So we're not a couple. We're just really cuddly. Because I like comfort.

James gives it to me even when I don't want it, though. Which I like and loathe at the same time. He knows that when I want to be alone it's because I'm talking to him. Her. It. I don't know, I don't give it a gender. Or a name. I talked to this guy once, who was talking about how he gave his eating disorder a name. Why the fuck you'd do that I don't know. That'd make me more attached. It's hard enough trying to let go of this voice, I don't need to name it.

I've been sitting up all night thinking about the other life I lived for four months inside of my head.

I never talked about it to anyone. Not my therapist. Not my psychiatrist. Not my mom. Or James. None of the doctors. I still haven't. I don't really want to. It's my world, not theirs.

I wasn't like this in that world. Shit, I was nothing like I am now. I was confident, I cracked jokes, I smiled. Besides the fact that, in that world, my Dad was dead, my Mom kicked me out, Katie moved across the country to attend a special private school and no one I was related to really gave two shits about me- I was a generally happy person. I had best friends, my own apartment, a boyfriend, and I was hot as fuck. Really. I'm not just saying that.

If I could wish for anything it'd be to be back in that coma.

People hate when I say that, but I can't help it. If they were there they would've known how great it was. Is. I go back there sometimes. I taught myself how to lucid dream. I've been working on it since I got back and I finally mastered it. Now I dream about the happy things.

And I control it.

For the most part.

Ten hours ago I kissed James. Well, James kissed me. I kissed back.

Did I mention that I shave my legs?

Carving into your legs and pulling out hairs is not fun. At all. So I shave them. I really hate shaving them.

"Kendall," James whispers. Shit.

"Yeah?" I whisper back. My back is to his. How the fuck did he know I was awake? I haven't moved a muscle.

"Why are you awake?" He mumbles sleepily. Fuck he's so cute.

"Thinking."

Silence.

"How did you know I was awake?" I ask.

"I had a feeling," he answers.

All of a sudden he reaches over and grabs my arm, rolling me onto my back and then my other side so my back is to his chest and my arm is slung over his waist. I tense up and he pulls my arm around him tighter.

"Just close your eyes," he whispers. "Sleep."

I let out the breath I'd been holding and relax a bit, snuggling my head into the pillow I'm now sharing with James and scooting closer so I can share his warmth. I didn't realize it until now, but I'm cold as fuck and James is just radiating heat.

"Fuck, you're freezing, dude," he whines.

"You're warm and you're the one who initiated the spooning so no complaining," I mumble. James chuckles.

It's then that I notice how much more comforting it is to hold someone than to be held.

I could get used to this- holding James instead of James holding me. I feel.. wanted.

Maybe that's what I've been looking for all along.

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><p><strong>AN: Review please and thank you? I'll have more reason to update sooner if you do C:**


	10. These Words

Dear Friend,

I've been feeling much better lately.

I've been reading a lot of books lately.

It's odd. Normally I'm playing hockey and video games with Carlos, Logan, and James. But now it's just me at home, me at a book store, me in a car, or me at James' house reading. Always reading. It's been helping me a lot. At least I think. Sometimes it makes me think too much so I stop.

I finished the Perks of Being A Wallflower yesterday. It only took me a day while reading during free time in classes and at lunch and before I went to bed. I've noticed that after I read a book, or during the process of doing so, I start to talk like the person in the book. If it was in first person, that is. This book was. I don't read a lot of first person.

James and I are.. getting there. We're getting there. I had an "episode" a couple of weeks ago. I hadn't had one in a while. It's October now. I feels like it's been three months since I was in L.A. We came back to Minnesota in March and now it's October.

A couple of weeks ago was the anniversary of when I went.. crazy. Insane. When I was stupid. When I stole a car and crashed it, because I wanted to die.

I still want to die.

In some ways.

Most of the time I do want to die, though. I'd say about 80%. I don't know when this feeling will go away, or how or why or who will help me through it.

I know James will be there. James has been there through all of it. It's really.. magnificent, waking up and having him there.

Oh, yeah. I'm a senior in high school now. Exciting, right? I guess.

I'm going to try and keep my head up about. Everything.

I'll try.

James and I had a serious conversation yesterday after school. I hate, no, I _loathe_ serious conversations. I have them much too often, and they're very tiring.

The conversation went like this.

We were in James' car.

"Kendall, I thought you said you weren't going to finish the word you started on your leg."

I turned to him. "I'm not."

"So you added another letter?" He asked me.

I responded. "Yes."

"What letter?"

"P," I told him.

"Kendall," he said.

I was starting to get a little annoyed."How did you even know? I'm wearing jeans."

"You've been scratching at it with this satisfied look on your face all day." Sometimes James scares me.

"Whatever," I mumbled.

"Is it infected?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Can you be serious with me, please?

"James, I'm cold as fuck and I don't want to talk about this, okay? Turn the damn car on and just. Let's go. Okay?"

"Okay."

And that was that. I feel kind of bad. Logan and Carlos came by and hung out with us when we got to James' house, though. Which was cool. I've really missed them.

I think I might love James.

Love Always,

Kendall

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><p><strong>AN: If you can't tell, this very shitty chapter was inspired by the Perks of Being A Wallflower. I love this book to pieces. Words can not explain. **

**I am so, so terrible sorry for my lack of updating. On this story and others. A lot has been going on in my life lately and I can not find time or inspiration to write. But I'm going to finish this and others, I really want to. So much. I got a part in my school play, which is super exciting. I'm actually getting involved this year. Which is different from last year. Last year I was severely depressed. Last year I didn't do anything. This year I'm starting off fresh. I hope all of you are doing well. :)**

**Review please and thank you!**

**I appreciate all of the wonderful words and favorites and what not that I've gotten so far. **


	11. Daylight's Coming, The Sun Is Blazing

It's terrifying yet comforting, how quickly my addiction over my depression has turned into my addiction over James.

It used to be me and my head, 24/7, every second of every minute of every hour. I was consumed in it. I was so wrapped up in the way I was feeling, and what I was thinking, and how in the fuck could I be thinking these things? _There has to be something wrong with me, there just has to. I can't take it anymore. I'm going insane. I need to die. I need to get out of here._

And then along came James. Slowly, very slowly, he became a large part of my life. Of me. He is a part of me, now. At first, way back before I even stole that car and crashed it, I was developing a crush. On James. I denied it for about three months and then finally gave in, telling myself that there was no use in denying it any longer. When you pop a boner every time he takes his shirt off, you can't deny it. You just can't.

I finally kissed him that night; the night I fucked up my life even further.

Now that we're back in Minnesota, and ever since we have been, James has been there every step of the way. We've been here for eight months now and James has never showed any signs of leaving.

It's safe to say I love him.

I've always loved him. It was best friend love, at first. For our entire friendship it'd been best friend love. But now?

It's much more than that, now.

I'm way too deep into this to turn back.

And I don't mind one bit.

I'm so involved with James and how I feel about him, that sometimes I forget I was even depressed. I'm not saying I'm not depressed anymore. Because I am. You don't really get rid of a severe depression. Ever. It will always be there, haunting you, mocking you, eating at you and screaming for you to just give up. And sometimes I give in. When I do, it feels like I'm back in square one.

It is quite possibly the worst feeling ever.

But then James is there, reminding me that I'm not in square one, that _I've made so much progress and I can't back down now. "Look how far you've come, Kendall. Look. You can do this. I know you can. Everyone can see it."_

And I'll nod my head, wiping at my cheeks and nose like I'm five years old again and I'm fallen off my bike. Then I'll continue to cry; cry because I know James is right, but my head just keeps telling me that he's lying when I know he's not. Because it's so hard, nearly impossible, to get out of my head.

So I'll lean into James and nuzzle my face in his shoulder while he drapes his arm over me. I'll cry silently, face ugly and screwed up, so aware of it but not giving one single fuck because James is there and I know, I know that as long as he's with me I do not need to be scared of anything.

He is all I think about. He is all I want. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, it's James Diamond.

He is everything.

* * *

><p>"Do you think, in another universe, we'd still be best friends?"<p>

James turned his head to look at Kendall, eyes squinting from the bright light seeping through his blinds.

"Why are you asking me that?" James questioned, moving so Kendall's arm unwrapped from around his waist and he lie on his back. Kendall propped himself up on his elbow and stared down.

"Just thinking," he mumbled. He reached a hand up to play with the hair around James' ear, eyes fixed on every feature in his face. This was his favorite part of the morning. Especially on weekends. Waking up and observing every perfection, every flaw and dimple and barely noticeable scratch on James' face. James, in nothing but a wife beater and gym shorts, sighed contently.

"I think, no matter where or when, we will always be best friends. I don't think anything could change that," James spoke softly. The blond cracked a smile in return, nodding his head in agreement.

"Do you think.." he started, "do you think we'd be like this? Like we are right now?" James stared back at him.

"Because back in that coma, James, we were like this," Kendall whispered. "We were like this-" James interrupted then.

"All the time," the brunet finished, just as quietly.

"I know, Kendall. I know," he stared into green eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his.

Kendall took a deep breath before he started to speak again, "and do you ever… do you ever get mad at me, for ruining your dream?"

They'd never spoken about that before.

But James didn't blame him. He didn't blame him one bit.

"You threw away everything so I could have a shot at the big time, Kendall. I would never blame you for something you didn't do. You didn't ruin my dream."

He didn't get Kendall sometimes. Lately he'd gotten the hang of it; the way Kendall thinks. How mornings are always difficult but nights are so much worse. James tried his best to understand. He knows that that's all Kendall wants- for him to understand. He wants him to understand what it's like to be inside of his mind. He always tells James it's terrifying, and James can imagine.

It's terrifying to see Kendall like that.

So James can imagine.

He'd never cared about someone so much in his life. When they'd gotten that call way back last September about how Kendall had gotten into a car crash, he was half way out the door of 2J. Mama Knight's phone had rung twice before she answered, perky voice turning quickly into one of a worried mother. She'd broken down in hysterics, screaming at everyone to "get in the car! Get in the god damn car!" She wouldn't explain, but for some reason James already knew. He'd sat in the car straight faced the entire time, Logan driving with Mrs. Knight in the passenger's seat because she was too worked up to drive herself. Katie and Carlos were next to him in the back, both having an idea of what happened.

Seeing Kendall beaten up and unconscious in a hospital bed was the most painful thing James had ever gone through.

And he'd be damned if he had to go through that again. There was no way in hell he'd make it out alive.

"Kendall?"

Kendall continued to stare at the space beside James' head, hand still in his hair.

"Kendall? Talk to me," James sighed.

The blond shook his head, "I talk too much about this shit. You're sick of hearing me, I know. I'll stop." So he retracted his hand from James' hair and buried his face in his pillow, ready to go back to sleep for the next hour and act like nothing had happened.

James turned on his side, the arm propping him up reaching over to play with Kendall's hair, now. Using his other hand, he gently turned Kendall's face to look his way. As his thumb brushed over Kendall's bottom lip, James spoke.

"You talk like you put the stars in the sky," he started.

"You talk," he brought his face closer to Kendall's, green eyes boring into his. "And I can see the stars in your eyes."

A small smile started to appear on Kendall's face. By the time he registered what James had meant, he was smiling ear to ear, the brunet pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Never stop talking, Kendall. I could listen to you for hours upon hours."

And so Kendall talked.

And talked.

They stayed in bed until 2 p.m., smiling and laughing as they reminisced over old times. Smiling and laughing as they joked about the future, as Kendall told James the things he wanted to do, the things he wanted to see. By the end of it, Kendall was thirsty and ready to go out and do something. James was content with doing whatever it was Kendall pleased.

"Hey James?" Kendall questioned. James was making tea for them both, Kendall leaning against the counter, observing the way his muscles flexed._ Beautiful,_ he thought.

James looked over, spoon in hand, "Yeah?"

Kendall waited until James found his gaze and breathed, eyes shining, "I love you."

And James smiled at him, that dazzling, breath-taking smile only Kendall got to see.

"I love you, too, Kendall," he spoke.

They stood silently, James returning to his task at hand, Kendall continuing to stare.

"You want honey in your tea?" James asked.

Kendall nodded, eyes trained on the way James' fingers moved.

"Always," he whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was super fluffy oh god. This story only has a couple more chapters, maybe one or two before it's over. Then I'm going to get to work on _The Calculation_ and finally finish _Reminisce. _Thank all of you for giving me feedback. I really appreciate it. :)**

**Review please and thank you?**


	12. Breathing

I've been in such a great mood lately- so it was surprising how easily I broke.

I wasn't even upset.

You know, up until the other night, I'd never used a razor blade to hurt myself? Never. I liked control. I liked rough edges; I've said that before.

I was curious, really.

By curious I mean that I wanted to make more scars.

I couldn't figure out how to get the damn blades out of the razor, so I ended up breaking apart the entire thing. It took me 10 minutes to get the blades out, but I managed. I analyzed all of them. I took my time picking and choosing, picking up the shiniest one with shaky hands.

I was on an adrenaline high. I was laughing, jumping in my skin. And then I brought the blade down, very gently. I pressed lightly, so lightly, just enough to hardly break any skin. I dragged it across my forearm- also something I'd never done before. At first there was nothing.

Then there was blood.

It was like I was ripping open a seam. It stung, and I was freaking out a little. But I did it again.

And again and again and again. I never went deep, so no worries, right?

I spent 5 minutes on my bed, staring at my forearm, the blood already starting to dry.

Then I spent 20 minutes on the bathroom floor, disinfecting and bandaging the small cuts.

A part of me could feel it. I could feel the monster I'd just created- the new monster. I'd stepped onto a whole new level.

I called James after that.

"I'd never used a razor before," was all I said. He was at my house and in my room in 5 minutes.

I think he'd grown used to it. He didn't seem as worried as he usually was.

He lied next to me on my bed, staring at the ceiling, holding my hand. Breathing slow.

I turned my head to face him.

"Is it ever going to change?"

There were several moments of silence before he answered. He met my eyes and it was all I could not to whimper. He looked so broken. And I know I'd done that to him.

"I don't know, Kendall. I don't know."

I nodded my head, facing the ceiling once again. Something in me knew that it wasn't going to change for a long time. I don't think I was ready. Would I ever be ready?

James had been there through it all. He'd been through the car crash, the coma, leaving his dream to come back to Minnesota. I owed him everything.

I squeezed his hand, running my thumb over his knuckles. I heard him sigh.

"James," I whispered. My eyes were closed, smile on my face as I spoke.

"Make love to me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****This chapter was really short, I know. I don't apologize though lol. After this there will be two more, and then that's it. I'll post the songs that inspired the story and each chapter and what not. **

**Review please and thank you? **


	13. Lighting Fires In July

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I trust you."

I didn't even trust myself. I wasn't quite sure how this was going to work; if I was going to bottom or top or if I would last long enough for James to finish too. But in that moment with his hand moving up my leg to rest on my thigh as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine teasingly, I really didn't care how it happened.

I flipped us over so I was on top of him straddling his thighs. Immediately I dove back in, connecting our lips again, kissing him repeatedly until he couldn't take it anymore. He slipped his tongue in to slide against mine and I responded by gripping the hair at the nape of his neck tighter. Harder.

My hips ground into his, creating a beautiful friction that only lyrics in songs could describe. I shuddered, my back arching while my hips repeated their actions over and over. The clothes became too much in a matter of seconds, and there was James, ripping off his own shirt and then mine. He flipped us over so he was dominant again and made his way to the button on my jeans.

Time stopped for a short moment and our eyes met. James leaned forward, kissing me lightly on the lips and then the forehead. He waited for me to open my eyes and look at him and when I did, he slowly unbuttoned my pants, pulled down the zipper and carefully pulled the material off of my legs.

He did the same to himself, and I wondered if he wanted me to do it for him. But then it didn't matter because my hands were shaking way too much and I had butterflies everywhere.

I suddenly became very self-conscious about the scars all over my body.

I felt ugly. I felt disgusting. I didn't want him to see me.

I tilted my head back to stop tears from coming. I tried to take deep breaths. I knew James was staring at me. I could feel his eyes burning into my eyelids. The look he was giving was screaming look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

I couldn't.

I felt lips on my shoulder, pressing small kisses down my collarbone.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered.

"I feel disgusting."

And I did. I was. I was hideous.

"You are perfect. You are so perfect and I wish you would see it, Kendall."

"I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not." I shook my head over and over, bring my hands to my eyes and letting out a quiet cry.

"We can stop," James suggested. That was the last thing I wanted. If he stopped it was because I was ugly. Fat. Disgusting. Repulsive. But what if he really did want to stop?

_You're so ugly._

No. Go the fuck away. I got rid of you.

"Tell me what's on your mind. Don't put your walls back up like you always do, Kendall. Tell me. Please." He sounded sincere. Was he?

I think he was.

"This god damn-," I choked on my tears. Then I spoke very quickly.

"This god damn fucking voice in my head that I thought I got rid of is back and I just want it to fucking go away for once so I can be happy and not feel so fucking useless and gross and fat I'm so fat but I don't want to think I'm fat I want to stop feeling like this fuck."

James was quiet. My hands remained over my eyes because I did not want to see the look on his face. I did not want to see his eyes boring into mine.

"I think you're really beautiful. That voice can fuck the fuck off because you're mine, not his. Hers. It's. Whatever. You're mine. I love you and I'm not going to let it get to you, okay? You're so perfect."

I didn't expect that at all, but I wasn't complaining. My breathing slowed and I waited a few more moments before I took my hands off my eyes and lowered them to my sides.

"I'm here. I'm not letting you go anywhere. Not letting you go back to that place in your head, okay? You're here. With me." James flashed me a comforting smile and laced my right hand with his left.

I nodded and smiled back. "Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know this probably wasn't what you expected. But. That's it. Something just kind of hit me today and. Well. Yeah. I like the way this story turned out. I decided not to make it rated M. I felt like it would take away from the point of this story.**

**Things get better. I promise. **

**Playlist: **

Chapter 1: Like Knives by City and Colour  
>Chapter 2: Like Knives by City and Colour<br>Chapter 3: Like Knives by City and Colour (lol do you see a pattern?)  
>Chapter 4: Heartburn by Arhcitects<br>Chapter 5: Peaches by New Heights  
>Chapter 6: You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground by Mayday Parade<br>Chapter 7: Memories and Melodies by Kendall Schmidt  
>Chapter 8: You Be The Anchor... by Mayday Parade<br>Chapter 9: Miserable At Best by Mayday Parade  
>Chapter 10: Waste of Paint by Bright Eyes<br>Chapter 11: Peaches by New Heights  
>Chapter 12: Breathing by Progress In Color<br>Chapter 13: Listen & Forgive by Transit

**Thank you so much. **


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